GRANDPA’S OVERALLS

Here’s the strange and wonderful tale of an exasperating pair of overalls from the author of Big Mama (2000). Grandma wakes one morning to the sight of Grandpa’s overalls skedaddling out the door. Without, that is, Grandpa inside of them. The house is roused, and this being a family of dogs, they are happy to take chase. Plus, Grandpa doesn’t want to have to work in his underwear—or, as he delicately puts it, his “long-handled drawers.” The rascally overalls lead a gathering swarm of family and neighbors on a wild romp—over hill, down dale, through the hen house—until they finally decide to take flight up and out of sight into the blue yonder. That puts an end to the chase, but not the camaraderie of the proceedings, as all and sundry help take care of Grandpa’s plowing, milking, and digging-spud chores while Grandpa hides out in the smokehouse. And that is what this little item is all about—good-neighborliness and pitching-in—brought home to readers by a pair of willful overalls, a most outlandish and gratifying vehicle (which returns at book’s end to make off with Grandma’s nightie). Nash’s (Pet of a Pet, not reviewed, etc.) clean, old-school illustrations work just right with the story, making the overall buttons look like eyes and the straps become arms. Move over, Gingerbread Boy. (Picture book. 4-7)